


righting a wrong

by SinginInTheRaine



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), F/F, Post-Canon Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 16:41:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20085418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinginInTheRaine/pseuds/SinginInTheRaine
Summary: Carol had never wanted a soulmate. But fate doesn't work that way.





	righting a wrong

Carol had never wanted a soulmate. 

When she was younger, she was thankful her soulmark — a small hourglass on her left wrist — was dull and faded, usually a sign that your soulmate was no longer alive. She found the idea of being fated to someone a bit ridiculous. She wanted to be one of the independents, as the people without marks were known, who could pick their own. Or pick none if they preferred.

She had been around many people with soulmarks — her parents, for one — and she had seen both people be miserable. She was glad she would never have to deal with that.

And then she joined the Air Force and met Maria, and she found in her someone who understood her and accepted her and cared about her. She thought she could probably fall in love with her.

But before she had a chance to act on it, something happened. She went to bed one night, everything as normal as can be, and woke to a searing pain in her wrist, so intense and consuming she couldn’t help but cry out. And when her vision cleared and the pain subsided, she looked down to see the soulmark that had always been there now bright and clear.

“How is that possible?” she whispered to Maria in the dead of the night.

“Is it possible your soulmate was just born?” Maria asked. 

Carol looked at her in horror. “You think my soulmate is a newborn baby? No. Absolutely not.” She had more than twenty years on her soulmate, if that was the case, and there was no way she was going to be okay with that. She decided it was a fluke instead, that the world was messing with her, and she vowed to forget all about it.

•••

She did forget about her soulmark for a long time, although not intentionally. The Kree, when they had taken her, didn’t want her to be marked with anything that could remind her she was human, so they had erased it from her wrist, cutting it off and leaving behind just a small red mark that she had been told was from her rescue. She never questioned it, because why would she, until the memories came back, and she dreamed of a face she couldn’t quite make out and woke to a warm sensation in her wrist.

Maria confirmed it for her. 

“You had a soulmark,” she told her. “It was a black and red hourglass. It appeared one night when we were in the bunker.”

“It appeared?”

“It changed,” Maria clarified. “Before it was pale and barely visible, like the person on the other side was not living, but then it changed.”

Carol stared at her wrist and the little red dot, which was all that remained.

“I didn’t want it,” she said, more to herself than Maria, as the memories of that night came back.

“Maybe you got what you wanted when they took it away,” Maria said, and Carol nodded, but she didn’t entirely believe that, as much as she wanted to.

•••

Carol knew it was Natasha the second she saw her, standing in front of her with her short blonde hair, demanding to know who Carol was and how she had gotten there. The warm, burning sensation in her wrist, that she hadn’t felt with as much intensity for decades, instantly seared through her body, but this time, she didn’t react to that at all, didn’t even glance down at her wrist. She waited until later that night to do so, pulling up the sleeve of her uniform, and seeing for the first time in years that the little red scar was starting to form a shape again.

But she had never wanted a soulmate, and she still didn’t. Her life involved things no mere human was ever going to understand. She spent her time saving people in other galaxies, fighting for those who needed it. Being attached to someone was a complication she didn’t need.

Fortunately for her, it seemed Natasha felt the same. Neither woman, in the times they saw each other, made any indication that they were anything more than just two people who worked together. They greeted each other perfunctory and discussed what needed to be discussed, and that was it.

And then Carol got word that Thanos was back and the Infinity Stones were in action, and she arrived in time to help the Avengers defeat him once and for all. She looked around when everything was done, taking in all the various Avengers who had returned from the beyond, and then looked over at Steve.

“Where’s Natasha?” she asked.

He looked at her sadly.

“No,” Carol said when he was finished. “That’s impossible.”

“Clint was there,” Steve told her. “He saw her after she fell.”

Carol held up her arm, yanked the sleeve of it down and revealed the tiny little hourglass still bright and colorful on her arm.

“You’re wrong,” she said. “Natasha’s my soulmate. She’s still alive.”

•••

She knocked softly before entering the room. Natasha was lying in the middle of the bed, curled on her side, staring at the wall. Carol sat down beside her.

“Steve says he’ll cook you whatever you want,” Carol said softly. 

Natasha’s eyes shifted to her. “I’m not hungry.”

“Whenever you’re up to it.”

Natasha nodded, then resumed her staring at the wall. Carol thought about getting up and leaving. She wasn’t good at this — she had never wanted to be good at this. But just as she shifted, about to stand, Natasha reached out, curling her fingers around Carol’s wrist.

Carol felt her soulmark flood with warmth, and looked at Natasha.

“You saved me,” Natasha whispered. “You got me out of there.”

“I knew you were alive.”

“I don’t think I can ever repay you.”

“You don’t need to repay me,” Carol said. “You dove off a cliff to save the world. I think you’ve more than paid any debt you owe anyone.”

Carol saw something glisten in the corner of Natasha’s eye.

“I don’t know where we go from here,” Natasha whispered. She looked so beautiful, so sad, lying there in the middle of the bed. Carol couldn’t help it. She moved closer to the other woman so she could run her fingers through Natasha’s red strands.

“Neither do I,” she told her. “But I promise you we’ll figure it out.” She held up her wrist, the little hourglass on it shining brightly. “After all,” she said, “you are my soulmate.”


End file.
